LIFE'S GUIDING STAR. BY WILLIAM LEGGETT. THE youth whose bark is guided o'er On imaged skies that glow beneath. To shade awhile the watery way, 'Tis thus down time's eventful tide, While prosperous breezes gently blow, Our hopes, our thoughts all fixed below. DESPONDENCY. WRITTEN IN DEJECTION AND SORROW FOR LOST TIME. BY JOHN INMAN. WHENCE Come, my soul, these gloomy dreams, And whence this blighting cloud, that seems What is this cankering worm that clings I find no joy in home or friends- And mirth and I have said farewell. I dare not think upon the past, Where dwells remembrance, fraught with pain; Of youth's pure joys that could not last, And hopes I ne'er shall know again. I dare not ask the coming years What gifts their onward flight shall bring; Yet I can deck my cheek with smiles, Upon the frozen surface there, With tenfold light the sunbeams play-- And falser yet the laughing eye-▬ The cheek that wears a seeming smile- The heart that hides its misery, And breaks beneath its load the while. TO A GOLDFINCH. BY ROSWELL PARK. BIRD of the gentle wing, Home, from thy wandering, Dost thou repair? Art thou deserted then, Wilder'd and lone? Come to my breast again, Here in the rosy beds Hover anew; Sipping the dew: Then in my bower The fragrance inhale Of each lovely flower That waves in the gale. When the bright morning star, Rising on high, Day's early harbinger, Shines in the sky, Then shall thy numbers, So lively and gay, Rouse me from slumbers, To welcome the day. When the still evening comes, When the dull beetle roams, Drumming the air; Then, on the willow-trees Shading the door, Sing me thy melodies Over once more. Thus shall the moments fly Tuned to thy minstrelsy, Cheered by thy song; Till as the light declines Far in the west, Thou, 'mid the trellis'd vines, Hush thee to rest. THE MIDNIGHT BALL. BY MISS ELIZABETH BOGART. SHE's bid adieu to the midnight ball, Which glittered in the lighted hall: She weeps not that the dance is o'er, She weeps not that her steps no more Are follow'd by the throng. Her memory seeks one form alone Her truant thoughts but dwell on one And thence her tears unbidden flow The light of love is darken'd now She throws the worthless wreath away The leaves lie scattered at her feet, THE DESERTED BRIDE. [Suggested by a Scene in the Play of the Hunchback.] BY G. P. MORRIS. "LOVE me!-No-he never loved me !" Else he'd sooner die than stain One so fond as he has proved me With the hollow world's disdain. False one, go-my doom is spoken, |